intense grief with my family size
Edit/Update: I probably should not have included the sibling dynamic stuff. I wouldn't even rank that in the top 20 reasons why I regret not having a bigger family. At the end of the day I wanted a 3rd (and maybe a 4th??) because I just want MORE - more noise, more laughter, more activity, more love.
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I made a huge mistake six years ago that I can’t undo. I am devastated to the deepest core of my being. In my forty-five years on this planet I have never felt as emotionally unmoored as I have for the last two + years. I’m utterly gutted that I did not have a third child when I had the chance.
Before we had kids I always said that I wanted 3. My husband said 2 minimum, and was open to 3. We had our first and our second - 2.5 years apart. I should have gotten pregnant with the 3rd in 2019/2020, but at the time I was so overwhelmed - both physically and emotionally with caring for two small children and working full-time. Then covid hit and it felt like shit hit the fan. I would ask my husband about a third, and he was ambivalent/negative about the idea. He would make vague statements about how he didn’t like being 1 of 3 children and how it was hard to get a restaurant table for 5. He would also respond to my inquiries about a third with ‘if you want this I’ll do it, but I’m tapped out.’ My thinking at the time was:
- I have to prioritize my marriage and a third might add too much stress
- I can’t take on the emotional responsibility of pushing my husband to have a third and then having something go wrong (disabled child). I would have been 38 when I had the third and at the time that felt too old
- Will I have enough energy/emotional space to give to a third child?
- Will making my daughter a middle child somehow cheat her of something?
- I would have a third if I could guarantee it was a girl
I now sit here, feeling like there is a hole in my heart and am so regretful and filled with rage. The early years with kids are so hard - but they are finite and now I have two kids who are the absolute best things in my life. They are such cool little people and I can’t get enough of them - and I wish there were more. I could have absolutely guaranteed that the third was a girl by doing IVF (which also would have taken some (not all) of the disability issues off the table). Why did I not make my husband have a serious conversation about the third? I think if we had, then we would have decided to go for it. But these were always conversations in passing and for reasons I am trying to sift through with a therapist - I took it upon myself to simply internalize his comments and come to my own conclusion, rather than working it out together.
My children are now 9 and 12 and for the last two plus years I’ve been dealing daily with intense grief over not having a third. It is now clear that a third would have really improved our family dynamics. My daughter really loves younger children and would have thrived as an older sister. My oldest would have also benefited by having a sibling that was farther apart in age and less of a source of competition.
My pain feels compounded by my recognition that the purpose and meaning I find in life comes from being a mother. I stand here today in my pool of tears wondering how I let myself become too distracted and scared to craft the life that I wanted. While my job (attorney) can be intellectually stimulating, it does not provide me with any purpose or meaning. Given this, having only two children feels like I have failed spectacularly.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for with this post - thank you for reading if you have gotten this far.. I am seeing a therapist that specializes in issues re: parenting choices, and my husband and I are in couples counseling. Even with all of this support my grief is not lessening and the hole in my heart feels permanent.